


obscura kisses

by orphan_account



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, first chapter is p short o_o
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: some people have always said love at first sight isn't real.





	1. letters to ana

**Author's Note:**

> fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff flu-
> 
> theres a playlist a friend of mine made, ill try n link it l8r  
n the chapter titles r from the playlist so yeag

"LA is gonna be a big change." his mom says, pan sizzling and the morning light shining through the windows, peeking through trees and dotting on the open patio. Chris sips his orange juice, sat at the counter. His dad is rummaging through old records. It's Saturday, and they're starting their move from Vancouver to Los Angeles tomorrow. 

His mom slides a plate to him that holds an egg sandwich with smoked sausage and melted cheese. To Chris, it was the most delicious combination ever and his mom made it best. They never bring up the time his dad tried to make it one morning. Didn't go well, but they had a bit of a laugh after the smoke alarm went off and other disasters happened.

School was about to start up, they had the whole next week to unpack and move in, get Chris into the public school and let it all begin. He's gonna miss Canada, no doubt. His parents said they would go back occasionally to visit their grandparents. Other than that, they're full time in LA now.

Chris got his stuff sorted, got the boxes and played Yakuza on the PS4 for the rest of the day, having lunch and dinner inbetween. This is 'only child' culture. He has no siblings to play with or watch him complete Yakuza. He only has his cocker spaniel named Ditty, and he loves her. So Chris is pretty lonely, though he makes it work and has his online friends.

He'd say he's in a pretty good state. School for him last year was good, he got B's and A's, actually got to school on time because that was a struggle for years. His parents didn't hassle him, and they lived comfortably. 

Chris finally stops playing Yakuza at 8pm, his dad being the jokester he is and literally just mumbling for Chris to head to bed, for a kickstart on the moving. It's how it is, Chris understands the mumbling somehow and tiredly goes upstairs, ready to flop into his bed.

It was a soundless night, he slept easily, because the comforter was so welcoming.

A good start.

* * *

"Wake up, kiddo!" his dad knocks on the doorframe. Chris groans, eyes squinting at the bright light from his windows. His clock read 10:30, flashing to 10:31. He sits up, head throbbing slightly, but he ignores it. Chris can faintly hear boxes moving and sliding across hardwood floors and his mother complaining. His dad walks away, chuckling as he calls back to his wife.

Chris groans again, seeing his sorted stuff from yesterday, and the boxes were outside his door, stacked up. He slides out of bed, and gets started right away, grabbing his clock, the tiny shelf that held video games, all that was on his dresser. As he walks back in, after packing the dresser items, he sighs heavily at his computer. This is gonna be tiring.

Eventually, his dad had to come back in, being the tech savvy guy that he was. Chris was more knowledgeable with phones, not how computers work with all their wires and red buttons that Chris refused to even look at. His dad had installed this thought where Chris cannot press that red button, so Chris never did, afraid some bad shit will happen. 

His mom takes care of the sheets, and his clothes, while his dad was taking the mattresses and all of that. Chris had to move these heavy ass boxes and he forgot how much stuff he actually had. Apparently, the movers were already there, helping with the bigger boxes and it may have taken about 4-6 hours to get it all in the back of the truck.

"It's gonna be a four hour flight." his mother says in the car, on their way to the airport. Chris let the adults talk out this moving stuff, he was gonna be the teenager who had no idea and just sit on his phone. They had their clothes luggages in the back, along with other things, Chris just put his video games, headphones and phone charger, with his clothes. 

Personally, he didn't like planes. They made him queasy, and he hopes to God he can fall asleep easily on the flight. It's bad because he's right next to a window. Chris will scream if he wakes up with his face on the window, seeing the drop from the plane to the ground. He will go beserk, no promises.

On Monday, they were gonna unpack in the house they'd bought. It was a simple, suburban looking house, just like the one in Vancouver. Chris was sure his mom owned a "live laugh love" painting because that's how suburban and upper middle class they were. 

He luckily falls asleep during the flight. But he wakes up with no memory of his dream, and he also didn't wake up by the window, so he successfully avoided some sort of panic/anxiety attack. 

They were having their cars transported, which Chris wasn't sure how long it'd take. His dad said he could walk to school, since their house was pretty close to the high school. So they took a taxi to their house. 

His mom was marveling at it, and his dad stood, accomplished and happy looking around the house and stairs. Chris looked at the rooms, called dibs on the one with a small balcony. 

One step closer.

* * *

It takes the moving truck almost a day to get to their house. His dad carried in the big, tall boxes and mattresses, his mother carried the pots, pans and house decorations. Chris took his own inside, setting up in his room. He was at a point where he didn't need his dad's help to set up the desk in his room. Chris was satisfied because everything sat where it needed to be comfortably and it looked nice. 

However, his dad had to set up his computer. Chris would never in a 1000 years learn how to do that, so he left it to the professional. He spent another 2 hours setting up his bed, dresser and closet. His dad also set up all the TVs in the house, along with the PS4 and WiiU. 

Other stuff had to be taken care of, and it was mostly the kitchen and food things. Chris just played Yakuza over the course of 4 days, helping when needed in the kitchen. His parents said they were fine, but he had offered several times along with a million 'you sure's.

Chris got his school schedule early on a Friday, along with a map of the school. He studied over it many times, and would probably have to do it again over the weekend. His parents were gonna be gone for awhile, shopping for groceries and beverages. 

They get home at around 7pm, and Chris spends his time helping, putting away the foods and drinks that were supposed to be refrigerated. So, they had a pretty late dinner. His mother made some simple chicken stew. Chris thought it was delicious as hell, and wondered why his mom rarely made it.

For the rest of Friday, he finished other games, eventually completing Yakuza and starting on a Hitman game. Chris never intended to stay up late on a video game, but he does, and it was on this stupid Hitman game. He kept failing this mission and it caused him pain.

Chris got tired of it around 1am, falling headfirst into his puffy comforter and his body relaxes into an easy sleep.


	2. flamin' hot cheetos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> live in the moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why these r so short i s2g i write for like years n only 1k words come out ;(
> 
> song rec: flamin hot cheetos by clairo

It was Monday, 5:30 flashing red on his clock. Chris peeks over his covers, feeling too comfortable to move. The blue of the sky was dark and rich, able to be seen in slivers, the rest concealed by white shutter blinds. His phone was charging on his night stand, and it lights up with a text from his dad, _ wake up son _. Usually he would come in and poke Chris until he woke up.

Nothing really changed for him, clothing wise. He wore his hoodies when it was cold, or wore a jacket. It was really damn hot in LA compared to Canada. So, Chris just wore his dad’s shirt, a vintage Guns and Roses shirt because his dad loved that band.

Junior year officially starts at 7:15, and Chris would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He knows absolutely no one and had like one ‘best’ friend all throughout elementary school. But that was in Canada. 

“You should try and talk to people,” his mother says tiredly, the Keurig brewing coffee into the porcelain mug. “Make this school year memorable.” She says and Chris understands because he literally remembers nothing about any school year he’s been through. “I mean, maybe you’ll meet the love of your life.” She chuckles, taking the mug off of the platform. She adjusts the collars of her robe. As his mother walks by Chris, who’s sat at the counter, she rubs his shoulder, ruffling his hair.

Chris highly doubts it. He doesn't consider himself hot or the one that people whisper “check out the hottie at 3 o’ clock” when he walks by. Definitely not. He’s also had his fair share of crushes. He’s also settled on bisexual, then he remembers those stupid dating games he did in 2nd grade. Chris ‘dated’ this girl named Nadia, she was nice. He still counts it as ‘dating’, they held hands and sat together on the playground.

But high school dating? Hell no. He sat alone at lunch and he was completely okay with it. Chris just played on his 3DS, Animal Crossing was an addiction. High school dating wouldn’t be sitting near the playground slide or sharing Lunchables. It would probably be the most dramatic thing since Degrassi, which _ is _ the most dramatic teen show he’s ever seen. Yes. He watched all of it in one summer.

Chris regrets waking up _ this _ early because now he has to wait. He beat Yakuza, and doesn’t know which PS4 game to start up.

He ends up napping on the couch.

“C’mon kiddo,” his dad drops a pillow on his torso. Chris winces, and tries to find a clock. “7:10, we gots to go.” He says and jingles the car keys in his hand.

“We have a car?”

“Rented. Only for a bit though.” His dad replies, heading towards the front door. Chris hurried to his room, his backpack was filled with old school supplies and last year’s folders and unused notebooks. He grabs his phone, headphones and catches up with his dad.

The rented car is a Honda Civic, and it drives smoothly. Chris takes out the schedule, studying over it. The ride isn't far, they live pretty close. His dad turns a corner, swerving calmly into the drop off station. The morning sun shined, and kids were crossing the street as other cars stopped. Chris already felt out of place because they all look like they know each other, talking animatedly as they enter the gates.

"You know where to go?" His dad leans back in the seat, car stopped but still rumbling. Chris nods, but he's unsure. "Have a good day, bud." he pats Chris's shoulder, who hikes his backpack over.

"Bye." Chris says quickly and steps out of the car, door shutting behind him as he crosses the curb to the crosswalk. He puts his headphones in and turns on this old playlist he made. He walks past the gates, schedule in hand. First period, Algebra 1-2, room 200. He sighs and heads into the building.

On his way to room 200, he checks out his other classes, his next period was unfortunately boys PE, with Coach Michaels. Chris raspberries, the high air conditioning of the school seeping through his shirt. From what he could see, all these doors had '100s' on them. Some people were walking through and into classrooms. 

Chris is brave, he really is, asking a stranger for help when his anxiety levels are at an all time high. The person who he stops is a blonde girl, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She's wearing these typical looking clothes, short sleeves and denim jeans. "Do you know where room 200 is?" he asks, trying not to trip over his words.

"Oh, algebra? That's upstairs." she gives a friendly smile, "who do you have? Parkins or Dennis?" she asks, sliding her hands into her jean pockets and bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

Chris glances at his schedule. "Parkins." he replies.

"Need an escort?" she grins. He chuckles.

"Sure. Thanks." he mentally sighs in relief, because he thought she would think he was some weirdo -- why would it be weird to ask for directions? He thinks too much. She leads him to a second staircase.

"So," she starts, and they're going down a corridor. "What's your name?" she asks, bag hanging off her shoulder. The hall is silent.

"Chris. Yours?" he is surprised he's holding up this exchange.

"Sam. Sammy. Samantha. Preferably Sam." she exhales, stopping at door 200, hands on her hips. "We've arrived. Parkins is chill, don't be scared."

Chris smirks, smile tugging at his lips. His anxiousness is very visible. The morning is pretty chill and here he is sweating. "Thanks, Sam." he says with a forward nod of his head. Chris turns the handle, giving a small salute before entering. 

The classroom is like a regular old one, something you'd see in a 90s movie about school. There's a chalkboard, smartboard and a whiteboard. This high school has it all, damn. The teacher, Mr. Parkins, is writing on the whiteboard with a teal Expo marker.

Chris is the only one in the classroom, slowly dropping down his backpack on a random chair. “Hello there.” Mr. Parkins says heartily, capping the marker. He sits down in his wheeled chair, typing away on his Mac Air. Chris mumbled out a little 'hello' back, and just sat blankly at his desk.

The bell rang, and to Chris it sounded like some low quality sound bite. A lot of kids flooded the classroom, filling up all the seats. Some even had their own little groups. Now Chris feels really left out, watching as students striked up animated conversations with each other, a genuine camaraderie. He fiddles with his schedule, eventually moving to take out a mechanical pencil, messing with the hook on the side.

Mr. Parkins introduces himself, and adds, "some of you may know me" giving a knowing smile to a few students in the back, a group of boys who saluted. Chris feels like that made him feel even more left out than a minute ago. "Since it's the first day, we won't start off right away, we need to get to know each other. There is some new fellas in here," he continues, pacing along the front of the classroom, his fingers locked.

Jokes bounced around the class and most were probably inside jokes that Chris will never understand. So everybody knew Mr. Parkins except Chris. This was gonna be a great first period. Like second period is gonna be any better, it looks like everyone knows each other. Mr. Parkins hands out a syllabus, giving it out individually.

Chris expects this to not be a work-filled day, why would it? The rest of the period is Mr. Parkins cracking jokes while telling the class how he got here, his teaching career and childhood. Chris usually liked it this way, first week of school was okay, but he already dreaded the next week to come.

The class is very loud when the bell rings, backpacks zipping up and folding as people drained back out of the classroom. Chris hurried out of there to avoid awkward conversations with the teacher, unfolding his schedule and map as he paces out into the hallway. He searches for the building he's in, and finds where the gym is on the map. 

He tries not to look stupid as he moves past people to see where the large gymnasium is, following his map carefully. The outside is packed, very much so. Chris doesn't want to push anyone, trying to make detours and hoping no one trips or falls because of him.

There's a guard standing stoic as kids walk by. He's talking, saying 'good morning's and cracking jokes like Mr. Parkins did. Chris sighs, another human interaction. "Excuse me?" he successfully gets the guard's attention.

"Need something, pal?"

"D'you know where the gym is?" Chris asks, and feels like an idiot.

The guard turns and points to the right, the gymnasium being behind him. "Right over there, kiddo." he smiles, sunglasses having the sun's bright reflection in them.

"Thank you." Chris smiles, following the guard's hand and eventually seeing the words, 'gymnasium' on the top of the building. So Chris has come to the conclusion that he is dumb. Then he thinks, why is he being so hard on himself? This is his first ever Western American school, and first time being in a state where they didn't have braille on the money.

Chris enters the gymnasium, right away boys are playing basketball and some are on the bleachers just talking. Yet again, everyone in here knows each other. He tugs his backpack to his side, having easier access to the back pocket, unzipping it and placing his folded schedule in there.

Then he stops, backpack falling uselessly after it's zipped back up. Chris's eyes are locked on a particular boy, with a sharp jaw and striking emerald eyes. He's pulling a shirt on, sleeves on his elbows. His hair is jet black, messy and wild. He can't look away.

Chris eventually does look away before someone sees him weirdly staring at this boy. He paces quickly to the bleachers and sits down quickly. He sets his backpack in his lap, pulling up the collar of his shirt to hide his reddening cheeks. He only looked away for 10 seconds before his eyes landed back on the boy, who was  _ running his fingers through his hair, _ and smiling this bright smile.

Another guy comes up to him, clapping him on the shoulder and laughing loudly, Chris can hear it across the gym, but he can't hear their conversation. There's something about this boy, black hair and shining eyes, something really special. Chris keeps his eyes on him, tracking him slowly and hazy eyed because he's radiating.

"Josh!" someone yells and Chris sees the boy turn towards the person.  _ Josh. _ He remembers it, as soon as it melts quickly into his brain. Josh grins as he and this person do a fun handshake. 

Chris might've just been shot by Cupid.


	3. ur cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ﾐ doki doki ﾐ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the length of these chapters are bothering me, i swear they're gonna get longer, promise xx

He read somewhere that it takes 4 minutes to fall in love. Why did it only take him 3 nanoseconds? In PE they didn’t do much, they’re given a syllabus, and the teacher’s life story. Josh is laughing in the corner of the classroom that they were escorted into earlier. He’s joking with this other dude that Chris still didn’t know the name of.

Next period, Chris is positive he has lunch next. In the back of his mind he hopes to God that Josh has it next period too. This is going to become a problem. He won’t stop thinking about it and Chris estimates that it’s going to continue for 3-4 weeks. Unless Josh turns out to be a huge dick. But from the hearty and cheerful expressions and laughs he causes, Chris thinks he’s pretty swell so far.

Each period is an hour and 30 minutes, except for lunch, which is only 15, Chris learned that pretty quick from Mr. Parkins. PE ended at 10:30 and Chris kept his eyes on the (_ J̶o̶s̶h̶ _) clock. Coach Michaels lets them mess around in the classroom for the rest of class. 

He’s not gonna lie and say he’s not anxious about this class. He isn’t very satisfied with his weight, and he isn’t comfortable about being watched while he exercises or something. Chris is probably gonna fail this class, but he thinks he’ll do well in the others. He surfs Instagram for 5 minutes, boredom taking hold.

Now he’ll sit for another 15 minutes. He has no friends at all, besides that friendly interaction with Sam. Chris finds the cafeteria, and also the table in the far back that was luckily vacant. The cafeteria has like 20 or so kids in it right now, the big crowd outside hasn’t entered yet for some reason.

“Heyo.” A voice says and Chris lifts his head. A Sam has appeared. She gives a friendly salute and sets her bag down on the empty seat across from Chris’s backpack. “Sitting alone?”

“Yeppers.” Chris replies, setting his phone down and letting his gaze wander. Sam sighs.

“'S been a good first day?" Sam asks. Chris only hums. “I’m guessing we don’t have a similar schedule at all.” She says. Chris reaches into his pocket and unfolds his schedule. 

“English after this. You?”

“Algebra 1-2. Then I have science.” Sam has her schedule memorized already. She taps idly on the table. Chris wonders if she knows Josh or anyone who he hangs out with.

“Do you know anyone named Josh?” Chris asks, thinking that this is the only time he’ll get to ask Sam. She perks up at the name.

“Do I know a Josh? Yeah, yeah I do. Josh Washington, hot shit. I’m best friends with his sister Hannah.” Sam says. She smiles. “Why?”

Chris keeps questioning. “Just wondering. Does he have dark hair?”

“Yessir.” Sam nods. “Green eyes. But why?” She repeats. Chris sighs.

“Dunno. Saw him in PE and he knows everyone. Or everyone knows him.”

“Both ways.” Sam replies. She reaches into her backpack, taking out a salad that smells appetizing. Chris eyes it and remembers he didn’t bring a lunch. “You vegan too?” She asks, chuckling slightly.

“Open to it. Eat anything really.” Chris easily responds. So he already figures out that Sam has a talent at making friends and people feel comfortable. 

She swallows down lettuce. “Want me to walk you?” She asks. 

“Please.” Chris nods. She smiles again, cheeky and bright. 

* * *

Chris wants to screech. Sam walked him to Ms. Vysotskaya, a Russian woman who taught English. Interesting. But that’s not why he wants to screech. Josh has this period and _ also sat right next to Chris who is now heating up to the point where he has become the heater for the whole building. _

Josh leans back in his chair, and he’s wearing a turtleneck, hand falling to his bag to take out glasses. Chris tries not to stare too long but Josh is so distracting and he looks cute in glasses. Chris is such a damn romantic _ and _ a loser.

“Hello all,” the woman has a small accent and her English is solid, “as some of you may already know, my name is Ms. Vysotskaya or Ms. V.” She says, hands locked over each other. There's already a lesson plan on the board. “We’re getting started pretty quickly, I think it’s better we learn all of each other’s names, they are some new students.”

Chris pulls his collar up, concealing his mouth. And also the heated blush on his cheeks, but that’s whatever. Chris doesn't listen to what’s being said anymore, trying to focus on something that _ isn’t _Josh in glasses. The teacher slides a paper in front of Chris, and he looks up to notice everyone got it already.

“This is elementary, but you all know we have to get to know each other.” Ms. V says, returning back to the front of the room. Chris takes a look at the paper and he’s just staring at it seconds later when he realizes it says, “partner with the person to your left” and Josh is on his left. 

Chris swallows thickly. Josh is talking, but not to Chris, some girl with shoulder length black hair. Everyone knew this guy, he was friendly and had a cute ass smile. Josh swirls in his seat to lean against the table. He drags the paper with his fingers towards himself.

“Name?” He lifts his head and smiles at Chris, who just stares. Before it gets too awkward, he replies with his name and tries to not let it shake.

“Josh.” He says, taking his mechanic pencil and pumping out lead. He writes Chris’s name swiftly on the paper. “Where are you from?” Josh reads the question on the paper.

“Canada.” Chris says, also taking his pencil and writing Josh’s name which he already knew and remembered immediately.

“Birthday?”

“July 19th." Chris feels his face heat up even more. Josh writes down each answer quickly, paper flapping as he adjusts it along with wiggling his nose and certain parts of his face that make Chris's insides melt. Josh clears his throat, straightening himself to appear professional.

"Hobbies?" Josh's face was covered by the paper momentarily, unveiled when he puts the paper back down on the desk and he has his face angled upward. His mouth forms into a wide grin, glasses on the bridge of his nose and holy shit he looks cute as fuck.

"Uhh.. building, I guess." Chris settles on. He did play with Legos when he was bored, putting together random stuff. He refused to say he just played PS4 games because would that even count? It's all he really does. Lego building happened at least once a month.

"Oo, building what?" Josh folds his hands on each other, leaning his chest against the edges of the table. He seems so interested and Chris finds it dorky that he has this high of an interest level to want to even know what Chris builds with stupid Legos.

"Just Lego shit, whatever I can build." Chris is planning on giving himself a medal for lasting this long and not turning into a puddle from the amount of heat in his face. How much does he look like a tomato right now? Despite his blonde hair.

Josh chuckles. "Nice. Favorite song?" he reads after writing down the answer. Chris can't believe they still do this 6th grade 'get to know you' papers. 

"Been listening to Feelings by Cuco a lot." Chris says absent-mindedly because he has been listening to Feelings on repeat. It was catchy.

Josh beams. "Oh, I love that song. Good taste? Check." he jokes, recording the response and filling out other stuff on the paper. Chris guesses that it's his turn now. He examines the paper and he didn't acknowledge how bad he actually wanted to know.

Chris learns a lot about Josh. He's not from America either, and he's super smart because he got fluent in English pretty goddamn quick. Saudi Arabia apparently. He gives the song, "Nobody" by Mitski as his favorite. His hobby is drawing and Chris doesn't think of how weird he might sound when and if he says that he's memorizing all of this.

Near the end of the period, no, Chris is not a puddle because of the amount of blood rushing to his face. But he is still the blushing mess when Josh messes with his curly hair and letting his jacket fall off one of his shoulders. What the fuck. Chris is losing his mind.

"You're cute." Josh smiles, and it takes about 5 solid seconds for Chris to register it.

It's his last period of the day. Sadly, no Josh. But the comment he made still remains in Chris's mind where it nibbles at him all throughout class. He cannot take his mind off of it, no matter what he focuses on. New gamemodes? Nope. Beating Hitman when he gets home? Nope. He's solely focused on this one little thing that Josh probably forgot about.

He's glad they aren't doing much in Guitar, and he's also glad that something as easy as this is his last period. Chris isn't sure why he was put into Guitar, but the teacher was cool and Sam helped him get there pretty quick. 

Chris looks up remedies to treat this red condition on his face. Seriously, why has he been blushing for so long? It's been like 2 and a half hours, currently, he's walking out of the school still feeling the aftermath from Josh's little, minuscule comment. The Honda Civic is still buzzing in the parking lot, red and silver. Chris might match it.

"D'you have an allergy attack?" His dad jokes when Chris climbed into the car. Chris swipes down the mirror above the dashboard, groaning when his face is still flushed.

"No. I'm just.." he sighs. "Whatever. Need some AC." he says, blasting that shit and bathing in it, hoping that he's not identical to any red fruits/foods/vegetables. Chris also turns on the radio, cringing at the 2000's emo rock bands he swears that he did _ not _ have a phase with. Not at all. Never think of that. Ever. 

Chris isn't gonna think of that when he's still thinking about Josh when he gets home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> josh is from saudi arabia in this au as said,,, so,, its smth me n my friend were discussing n thot it'd be a interesting lil thing. ill try n elaborate on it more from our discussion, i personally like it 
> 
> xx

**Author's Note:**

> sticky sticky


End file.
